Original subtitles

Last year, on the 30th of January,

the meat industry worker S.

Was out hunting rabbits in the snow-covered wetlands of the north

when he came across a dilapidated hut made of plastic.

Thinking it the perfect spot to eat his lunch,

he tentatively poked his head inside -

- and found an unexpected occupant had beaten him to it.

Lying on a platform covered with straw was a mummy.

Still rugged up against the cold,

it was lightly coated in dust and frost.

Evidently the corpse had somehow managed to avoid decomposition,

becoming instead nicely desiccated.

Perhaps it had lost weight while still alive,

to make it easier to become mummified.

Lodged between the corpse's legs was a notebook.

This corpse was kind enough to come complete

with a faithful record of its own cause of death.

Based on this account in the notebook,

the forensic specialists identified the cause of death

as suicide by starvation.

This must have called for enormous resolve and perseverance,

but the motive remained unclear.

The deceased was a male person about 40 years of age,

measuring 176 centimetres in height

and weighing 36 kilograms.

He had been dead for about 100 days.

There were no indications of his name or occupation

or what he had been like when alive,

and attempts to identify him ran into difficulty.

Apparently no one was looking for him,

so he was forgotten by the world.

There were signs that he himself was well aware of this.

Here is the complete text of his death report:

Day One, 7th of August

I've given up eating.

Had my final meal at a snack-bar in town.

Although it was my last meal,

I could only eat about the same as usual.

It was cheap, so I had quite a lot of money left over.

You need money for emergencies,

but it seems this is one right now,

so I blew the rest on playing pinball.

Everything I needed for my suicide was in my backpack,

but I dropped in at a supermarket to buy various things just in case.

Candles, batteries for the radio,

a hose, a funnel, stomach medicine,

eau de cologne, shaving things, a mirror...

and so on.

The spot I've chosen for carrying out my plan uninterrupted

is the wetlands up here in the north.

It's not that I have any particular connections with this region

- it's just that when I was a student I came here once

and thought it would be a good place to die.

After leaving the cycling track and walking for about an hour,

I decided to set up my hut here.

All I need is a tiny shelter,

built using the existing trees.

I hacked off some thick branches

and positioned them across the trunks of four trees

and placed three layers of vinyl over the top.

The basic shape was ready by the time dusk fell.

Then I hurriedly collected some straw and ditch reeds

and spread them on the ground.

There were lots of big mosquitoes,

so I started a fire to get some smoke going.

My clothes ended up reeking of smoke.

Day Two, 8th of August

Don't feel any hunger at all.

They reckon you can last for a week without water,

and for a month with water.

It'd be nice if it was over in a week,

but things would be tough without water,

so I brought along one and a half litres of mineral water.

Still had 500 cc left,

but a while ago I accidentally spilled it.

Does this mean I'll die sooner?

Day Three, 9th of August

No symptoms out of the ordinary.

The floor is dampish with just a layer of straw,

so I put some branches together to make a simple bed.

While I was at it, I knocked together a shelf for my books and bits and pieces.

Dug a ditch around the hut for drainage.

Worked hard.

At night I was dying for some food,

and drank lots of water.

I'd love something sweet to eat.

Day Four, 10th of August

Had a bowel movement in the evening.

Is this what they mean by colon cleansing?

Heard Johann Sebastian Bach on the radio.

When I became absorbed in it,

my hunger just vanished.

So perhaps music is edible?

Day Five, 11th of August

Rain.

This means I can drink fresh rainwater.

The sound of the rain is unsettling.

When I close my eyes,

it sounds like the footsteps of someone coming to visit me.

I think it's still too soon to say it's the god of Death,

but I can't abandon the faint hope

that perhaps it might be the goddess of Fortune.

I don't care who it is,

as long as they'll talk with me.

Day Six, 12th of August

Heard on the news that three close friends from a junior high school in town

threw themselves off a high building together.

Apparently their motive is unknown.

So thanks to the radio I met new friends.

Day Seven, 13th of August

The heavens have ordered me not to die just yet.

I used bent twigs to keep some plastic bags open,

and collected drinking water by hanging them up

where the rain was getting in or streaming down off the roof.

When it rains, it sounds like I'm inside a drum.

I can't even hear the radio.

Once it fines up,

I'm going to put some straw on the roof.

Read all day.

Day Eight, 14th of August

Had a bowel movement.

I guess my intestines must be empty by now.

In the evening I had a headache and stomach cramps.

Felt a bit better when I listened to Bach.

15th of August

In a dream I saw all my past girlfriends around me folk-dancing in the nude.

In the midst of their circle I was pounding a stake into the ground.

Jerked off when I woke up.

To think that I can still get it up

even though I haven't eaten anything for a week.

16th of August

Time is distorted, not moving.

If I keep looking at my watch, the seconds feel like minutes.

I wish I had a watch that would make time pass more quickly.

I've decided on when I'll listen to the radio

- from two to four in the afternoon.

There's an FM program of classical music on then.

The female announcer has a bell-like voice.

She's the only person I have anything to do with.

Even without eating a thing,

you can still fall in love.

17th of August

I'm sleeping over longer intervals.

While awake, I suffer from dizzy spells.

My plastic greenhouse has become a haunted spot.

I wish someone came along to rescue me.

I'm peeing more frequently.

Every time it's an effort to have to go outside to pee.

Haven't had a crap since the 8th day.

18th of August

My head's clear, but my whole body is lethargic.

I'm spending more time lying on my bed.

Reading. Beckett's "Malone Dies".

I can totally relate to it.

It's a book you can't comprehend unless you're fasting.

Gave the radio a rest today

Day Thirteen, 19th of August

I've lost quite a lot of weight.

And my face looks like a dead person's.

Slight improvement when I shaved.

I'm hanging on to life by eating away my own flesh.

20th of August

I thought my plastic hut would be blown away by the gale-force of winds and rain.

In the afternoon the wind died down for a while,

so I went outside and used some branches to reinforce the hut.

My body won't obey me anymore, so it was hard going.

21st of August

Slept about 15 hours.

Dreamt I was licking a warm soup.

Drank some fresh rainwater.

Had a foresty smell about it.

My body hurts all over.

It seems as if my flesh is being whittled away from the inside.

Day Sixteen, 22nd of August

Another storm today.

Lightning struck close by on several occasions,

and each time it reverberated through my head.

Why doesn't it strike my hut?

I've decided to listen to the radio at night,

because when I'm lying down in the darkness

I lose track of where I am.

If I respond to every single word coming from the radio

I don't lose myself, and two hours pass in a flash.

I keep my finger on the switch the whole time,

and make a point of turning it off as soon as I get sleepy.

Sometimes what they're carrying on about seems so ridiculous

that I feel as if I'm already over there in the next world,

listening to the broadcasts of this world.

Day Seventeen, 23rd of August

There was some blood in my urine.

When I was at high school I was absolutely bushed

when we went on a training camp for our handball club,

and I had bloody urine then,

but that was the last time.

When night fell, I had sharp stabbing pains in my stomach.

Clutching my tummy, I curled up in a ball

and listened to popular songs,

but that only made the pain worse.

24th of August

All the fat on my sides and back has completely disappeared.

My face looks like that of a boxer who's been dieting.

But my eyes glitter intensely.

If anyone saw me now, they'd probably run away in fear.

No desire to eat.

It seems as if my hunger nerves are no longer functioning.

I can utterly relate to anorexics.

Once hunger goes beyond a certain point,

the very thought of food makes your stomach hurt.

By now my stomach would probably reject food as a foreign object,

as if it were germs.

Tonight is a bright moonlit night.

I'd like to die on a night like this.

But I'd rather die in the daytime.

They say life goes out on the ebb tide.

Around midnight or noon.

I'd like to die in the light.

25th of August

During the day I had stomach pains and a headache.

Received an unusual visitor in the afternoon.

A centipede was crawling over my bed.

No urge to eat it.

I've heard that a child was locked in a tiny room by his parents

and given nothing to eat,

so he caught and ate insects

and a mouse that came to nibble on his ears.

Adults who abuse children should be sentenced to a fast.

Day Twenty, 26th of August

Felt like vomiting,

even though there's nothing left to bring up.

Reverted to my normal stomach pains from about noon.

There's still time.

If I retraced the path I took to get here,

I could return to life.

I'd be bound to meet someone if I walked for just an hour.

I'd have no feeling of shame.

Fasting's no crime.

In a week I'd be back to my old weight of 75 kilos,

and no doubt I'd live for another 20 or 30 years.

Rather, I would be forced to live.

Just like in the past,

still with no involvement in this world.

Since this world is not suited for me to carry on living,

I've given notice to the other world that I'm moving there.

It's too late to change my mind.

Nor do I feel any particular attachment to this world.

It was with suicide in mind

that I made my preparations to fast.

I believed I could reverse the insignificance of my life

by the manner of my death.

I have already given notice of my death,

but I think it will be a while yet before my turn comes round.

I stopped eating on the 7th of August,

so I reckon I'm about exactly halfway between life and death.

Is that why I've begun to have doubts?

I'm exactly half-dead.

No doubt that's why I'm having headaches and stomach pains.

Let's hope the pain starts to lessen from tomorrow on.

27th of August

Yesterday I wrote my will,

so there's nothing more to write.

The pain in my stomach is as bad as ever

My bedstraw had gotten damp,

so I put it out in the sun to dry.

The slightest movement makes it difficult to breathe,

and my palpitations get worse.

I'm not sweating a drop,

and nor is my body giving off any oils.

My metabolism seems to have stopped functioning long ago.

What will I do if someone finds me before I die?

Should I just quietly abandon my fast,

or explain my decision and have them leave?

There's absolutely no sign or sound of human life here.

If somebody finds their way to this spot,

I'll interpret it as a command from some god to live.

In the evening I could hear the sound of insects.

I'm not alone.

28th of August

My stomach has dilated like the Ethiopian refugee children

I once saw on TV.

Why does it hurt so much even though I'm not eating anything?

I'm terrified of dreaming about food.

I was woken by a dream in which I was stealing food

over the shoulder of somebody eating spaghetti,

and my stomach has been hurting ever since.

No doubt just the mere thought of food

sets my stomach in motion as a reflex,

which is why I end up in pain.

Day Twenty-Three, 29th of August

Couldn't bear the pain any longer,

so I took some stomach medicine.

It's absurd to be taking medication when I'm trying to die.

I'll clean out my ears in the evening.

Day Twenty-Four, 30th of August

The water tastes awful.

Is water poisoning the cause of my stomach pains?

I'm freezing, even though it's summer.

I'm wearing a jumper, but I'm still shivering.

My mind is the only thing that's clear.

Today I read "The Inferno" from "The Divine Comedy".

I've never been a believer,

but I'd like to show respect to the many gods in the world,

because a god somewhere might gather me up out of pity.

While reading "The Inferno"

I was wondering who I'd meet first in the afterworld.

Turned on the radio when I got sick of reading,

to be greeted by a delightful female voice asking,

"Did you have another fulfilling day today?".

If only a woman like that

would be on the reception desk at the entrance to the land of the dead.

Day Twenty-Five, 31st of August

Things were a bit easier than yesterday.

Brushed my teeth and shaved.

In the afternoon it started raining,

and I was so delighted I took all my clothes off

and went outside to wash my hair and body.

I'm sure people would prefer a clean corpse.

Day Twenty-Six, 1st of September

My arms and legs are down to half their normal thickness.

And my face is so tiny it could fit in the palm of a hand.

There's just a covering of skin over my skull.

Guess my weight is also down to about two-thirds.

Yet my body feels heavy.

As well as the stomach pains and headaches,

my arms and legs have started to feel numb.

My eyes are dim, making it difficult to read.

Yet defying my desire to die,

my flesh struggles to live.

This manifests itself as pain.

2nd of September

A mosquito stung me in the neck.

Any mosquito that would suck the blood of such a bloodless person as me

must be pretty hungry.

I even feel a strange affection for it.

My neck itches,

but I murmured "May God protect you"

to the mosquito that sucked my blood.

It seems I've become kind-hearted.

3rd of September

Yesterday I accidentally fell asleep with the radio on.

Is that why I had so many different dreams?

In the broadcasting booth at a professional baseball game

an Indian was sitting with the coach,

who was cheerfully chatting away incoherently:

"Goodness, there's a long queue at the gates of Hades,

and they're selling hot dogs and coke,

but if you go and buy them you'll have trouble later.

Therefore what you need in the next world is a hungry spirit.

I too was kept waiting for quite a long time

after I committed suicide,

and now... how can I put it...

"dying takes guts too, doesn't it."

I felt enormously cheered by his words.

4th of September

It's cold.

I wrapped myself up in a blanket all day.

Blood doesn't seem to be getting to the tips of my arms and legs.

If I walked a kilometre

I could reach the cycling track.

Yet even knowing that this could be my last chance to get help,

I didn't change my mind.

I'd hate to die on the road.

I feel better when I think that the only course is for me to die.

I can lie here.

I can move my upper body pretty freely,

though my lower half is weak.

For a ridiculous moment

I thought it was because I don't get enough exercise...

Day Thirty, 5th of September

My stomach pains were the worst they've ever been so far.

Took some medicine.

I'll probably die tomorrow.

It's been exactly a month today.

6th of September

I feel pain, so I'm alive.

7th of September

The radio is fading

- my companion is weakening too.

Just like my voice is getting croaky.

I'm still alive even though I haven't eaten anything for a month,

but once its batteries go

the radio will no longer give out a peep.

Despite wearing two pairs of socks

and a jumper and a winter coat,

I can't stop shivering.

It seems winter has come to the wetlands.

If things go on like this,

I might freeze to death before I starve.

Even if I wanted to go outside and make a fire,

I no longer have the strength to collect firewood

- I'd be in heaven if I had a cup of tea.

8th of September

The pain in my stomach comes in cycles.

It attacks like a geyser spouting hot water every few minutes.

Perhaps my body is in sync with the rhythm of the earth.

When I'm in pain I can't even think,

but when it dies down I can write my notes in this way.

Priests who have attained Buddhahood in the flesh

must have suffered from headaches and stomach pains

and chills for some time too.

No doubt their faith sustained them,

but for an unbeliever like me, enduring it has no meaning.

If I'd jumped off a cliff or hanged myself

I would have died immediately,

but instead I'm deliberately trying to experience every nuance of suffering

for over a month before I die.

I can't say it's ludicrous and stop now.

Even if I wanted to jump off a cliff

I don't have the strength to make it to the edge.

As long as I'm not in pain,

I can pass the days tranquilly,

but at night the very darkness hurts.

The only sound coming from the radio

is like the buzzing of a mosquito.

There are three candles left.

I am keeping them for a night I can't sleep.

9th of September

The cold last night was like needles being stuck into my whole body.

It went beyond cold to pain.

I ended up using a candle.

My pulse is abnormally fast.

I can feel my heart pumping blood throughout my body

in an effort to raise my temperature.

My body is frantically trying to stay alive.

Sensing that someone is near the hut,

I call out "I'm here."

I thought the taxi driver who is to take me to the other world

had lost his way and was getting sick of looking for me.

I can't make it to the River Styx on foot.

My legs won't obey me anymore.

Although I'm fasting because I wanted to observe the process of my own death,

it's boring just thinking about death all day long.

But while idly listening to the birds twittering,

the thought came into my mind

that I was already dead at the point when I started fasting,

and that made me feel a lot easier.

Death is just the remaining few percent.

Day Thirty-Five, 10th of September

The radio gave up the ghost before me,

so I'm terrified of the nights.

I disappear in the pitch darkness.

If I stretch out my arms or poke out my tongue or blink,

I'm not there.

Perhaps someone else is there instead of me.

When I wake in the night I think this here is the other world.

In the darkness there are no subjects,

no verbs, no adjectives.

Nor any present, past or future tenses.

Just thoughts going round and round in my head.

Always half-formed, and with no beginning and no end.

It's just that I have to be thinking something to alleviate

even slightly the uneasy feeling that I'm not here.

If I stop thinking, I lose my presence of mind and call out in fear.

When the darkness starts to lighten from my feet up,

for a moment I can forget death.

Light is a medicine, the dark a poison.

But my joy in greeting the morning is short-lived,

and then the suffering of being alive, that stabbing pain,

is imposed on me in return for not having died.

I read somewhere that spies always carry potassium cyanide with them.

In an emergency they're prepared to swallow this

so as not to be held accountable.

But that means they end up dying at someone else's convenience.

At least at the time of death

we should be able to die for our own self.

There are many different ways to commit suicide,

but fasting is a highly individual mode of death

where you confront yourself

and struggle with yourself over a long period.

This manner of dying is truly not worth while.

But I'm proud of having endured this suffering for as long as 35 days.

I've done something that nobody would want to imitate.

Day Thirty-Six, 11th of September

When I flicked on the radio just for something to do

it was playing an opera I remember having heard before.

The batteries have recovered a bit,

so I was able to listen for about an hour.

My whole body is revitalized.

And I've plucked up the courage to die.

12th of September

It's raining on and off.

Apparently pigeons perceive the world in two different dimensions.

A world with water and a world without water.

Human beings can create diverse worlds in their minds.

Even while still alive we can conceive of a world after death.

But sometimes this ability is annoying.

All I want now is simply to die,

without thinking anything.

13th of September

My batteries haven't run out yet.

My breathing is a little uneven.

I can feel death so close that I could touch it

if I stretched out my hand.

The dull pain in my anus and knees and back has gotten worse.

I guess the soul requires enormous energy to leave the body.

The soul eats the flesh, storing up energy.

Before long it should be able to depart my body.

We're entering the countdown.

14th of September

My handwriting has changed.

And I'm having difficulty remembering how to write the characters.

I wonder if life in the afterworld is enjoyable.

Day Forty, 15th of September

Today is the day I'm scheduled to die.

I can't stand up anymore.

Come to think of it, by fasting, Buddha discovered how to live,

Christ fasted for 40 days.

And Moses likewise fasted for exactly 40 days

and received the Commandments from God.

In terms of the number of days,

I'm right up there with these holy people,

but I haven't been enlightened in the slightest.

But they must have been incredibly strong,

since after fasting for 40 days

they walked on their own two feet back to their people.

I can't walk anymore.

All I can do is wait until I turn into a corpse.

It's not as if I have any desire to become a saint or anything,

but I wish I had built up my legs more.

Anticipating that I would eventually become bedridden,

I'd prepared a specially designed toilet.

Under the bed I placed a largish funnel with a lid

and connected a hose up to it,

and it's set up so as to drain into the ditch

I've dug around the hut.

My penis has shrivelled up and is a pitiful sight.

I can only shake out a few drops of urine.

16th of September

Last night I lit a candle and paid tribute to the holy men

who had endured a 40-day fast.

Physically I was in pain,

but mentally I felt great.

I sensed these saints close to me,

and Christ and Buddha both seemed my friends.

17th of September

The legs soon give in,

but my mind works well even without any nutrition.

Perhaps it doesn't consume much power?

Dreamt lots of dreams during the day.

18th of September

A good day today.

I made it through till morning without waking up once in the night.

It was a fine clear day.

I still had chills and was in pain,

but it gives me some consolation to think

that the body feeling these symptoms is getting smaller.

My skin is now like a dried apricot.

And it has an unpleasant odour.

I guess this is the smell of death.

I sprinkled on some eau de cologne.

Nothing better than turning into a corpse

that gives off a pleasant fragrance.

Rain in the early afternoon.

Urinating each morning and afternoon is a major undertaking.

I still pee even though I'm only having a lick or so of water.

Anyway, I only have to worry about this major task

while I'm still conscious.

Some time I'll slip into a coma,

and it'll just flow of its own accord.

Eventually my heart will stop,

and in reaction my soul will take wing.

19th of September

The worst stomach pain and headaches I've experienced so far.

Lost consciousness twice,

at noon and about 3 o'clock.

I'd better think about my dying words.

At night I lit the remaining part of the candle I used on the 15th.

There are three books I still haven't read.

Not that they would be of any use in the next world.

Day Forty-Five, 20th of September

Out of the blue there was a young woman standing next to my pillow,

wearing a torn blouse, stockings

full of holes, and a muddy skirt.

Nothing surprises me now.

Thinking she had come from the world of the dead to fetch me,

I stretched out my hand and said:

"Take me where you will.

"There's nowhere to go.", she answered carelessly.

"You've come from the afterworld, right?"

"I haven't been there yet."

"So you're alive, then?"

"I can't say."

Turning a sad profile towards me,

she began to tell me about herself:

"Quite a long time ago I was raped and killed in the forest."

I thought I'd be taken to the next world,

but I waited and waited and nobody came to get me,

so I decided to walk there myself.

"Somehow I managed to make my way to the River Styx and boarded a boat..."

"You mean you never made it to the other world?"

"I was the only passenger,

and the captain wouldn't set me down.

According to him, there is no afterworld."

"So what are the dead meant to do?

If there's no land of the dead,

doesn't it mean they're destined to wander for infinity?"

"At first I thought the captain was lying.

But he was adamant that there's no such world."

"So what are you doing now?"

"The captain takes me to lots of different places.

The Cape of Good Hope and Antarctica,

and also to the Dead Sea and Lake Baikal.

He's really good to me, so now we're living together."

"How did you get here?"

"Via the Amazon."

"Where's your companion?"

"Over there."

She pointed to where a small and muddy yacht

was floating on the marshes outside my hut.

"What should I do?"

Without responding, she left the hut.

When I called out "Wait!",

the yacht bounded off.

Coming to myself with a start and taking a closer look,

I realized that what had seemed to be a yacht was a rabbit.

Bloody bad omen!

Perhaps tonight will be my last.

21st of September

I'm alive.

What shall I do if there really is no afterworld?

I don't want to die if after death the night terrors

and pain all over are going to continue.

Is death no release from suffering?

No, that's not right.

It's just that my mind is exhausted.

These delusions occur because I'm not a believer.

I suddenly recall the lyrics of "The Drunk Sent Back from Heaven".

I fall asleep,

repeatedly hypnotizing myself

that I'm somewhere

where "the wine is good and the girls are beautiful".

22nd of September

I'm cold.

Especially after urinating,

it seems as if I've had cold water thrown all over me.

When I turn over in bed

it feels as if I'm operating a robot arm.

My heart is beating frantically.

23rd of September

Hope I encounter a nice captain at the River Styx.

24th of September

My soul is weak,

so it's finding it difficult to depart.

Release me from my bodily suffering!

My chest is being crushed.

I feel like discarded socks.

There's no body inside anymore.

Day Fifty, 25th of September

Where is the terminus of the City Loop Line?

I've already been round dozens of times.

This pain train stops at every single station.

I want to hurry up and reach the depot.

26th of September

I wonder if you can survive with just bones and a heart?

I intend to die by October.

27th of September

I have to write a letter to the immigration officials in the other world:

My soul will be arriving in two or three days.

Please duly accept it.

28th of September

I'm fed up with this.

Goodbye.

29th of September

The king or superintendent or manager of the afterworld

is not there anymore.

Has that world turned into a desert?

Even souls would get bored in a desert,

so I want to get on the boat.

Day Fifty-Five, 30th of September

I feel like bursting out laughing when I think I'm still alive.

I should get in the "Guinness Book of World Records".

Day Fifty-Six, 1st of October

Feel nauseous.

My chest hurts.

I think I'd feel better if I vomited.

No doubt I'd vomit up my soul.

Day Fifty-Seven, 2nd of October

I can't die.

3rd of October

Nausea.

I want to get in the boat soon.

4th of October

I can hear laughter coming from the radio.

Day Sixty, 5th of October

Someone's here.

Day Sixty-One, 6th of October

There are lots of people.

The river is flowing towards me.

Day Sixty-Two

There's a light.